Changed
by crazyvegimab
Summary: It had been months since Ike had been touched by the sun. As a Changed, he was strange, deserving only fear, hatred, and imprisonment. Filled with emptiness, he simply existed, until an angel gave him hope, and a Master gave him freedom. -AU, IkexPit-
1. A Quiet Voice

Author's Note: After letting ths sit on my DA page for a good three months, I thought it was about time to upload it here. As for _Bonds,_ I've deided leave it on indefinite hiatus. It WILL be finished, but not until I have the muse to do so.

Warnings: AU and Eventual Shonen-Ai. If boyxboy digusts you, it would be wise to give up on this story.

* * *

**Changed**

**Chapter One: A Quiet Voice**

Ike sat there, in his cell, leftover, unneeded—the smoke no one notices until the fire has its hold. He was not a in the dreary world, not even a stain on its dreary crust, but rather, an extra shadow breathing in the corner.

Appearance wise, he looking like any other street rabble: a jacket held only together by patches; grey, stained breeches tucked into weathered boot that had been red in their prime, and greasy, matted, blue hair that peeked out from beneath a faded black beanie. To complete the outfit, handsome, rusty cuffs bound his wrists together, and a second pair chained his feet to the cement floor, giving him just enough slack to come within a foot of the bared door that made up the fourth wall of his cell—not that he left his corner more than he had to.

His current circumstances could be blamed on the location of his village—the People's Republic of Ninten—right on the boarder of the kingdom of Seggh. Seggh itself posed no threat. Its grand empire had long since been wiped out and usurped by Ninten, leaving the Segian people scattered and in constant fear of invasion and enslavement. It now served as a sort of buffer country between Ninten to the west, and Sonii to the east. The problem for those living on the boarder was that they were the first target for any attacks by the Sonii military.

Yet no one knew just how dangerous the boarder lands were until Sonii's most recent ploy: the Miasma. Bombs rained down from the sky, spreading sticky yellow smoke through the country side. Those who did not die, or were not horribly disfigured, ended up 'changed'. Most of the Changed were no difference in appearance than a normal human being, albeit that they suddenly found themselves with extraordinary powers. The Miasma was a poisonous vapor designed to target cells in the brain that controlled basic body functions—such as breathing and making the heart beat. Unfortunately, or fortunately as the case may be, the viruses contained in the yellow gas mutated during their transportation, and ended up altering an unknown part of the brain, And POOF! Magical powers on command. Mist, Ike's sister, could heal gaping wounds by simply touching them. Soren, who had grown up with Ike, could control winds and zephyrs on will power alone. Ike was the only one in his village whose physical appearance had been altered. His thoughts flickered from the hat hiding his head, to his bagging clothes, and finally to his callused human hands. They were normal enough now but at will…

Not long after the miasma, chaos erupted in the streets of the larger boarder cities. Changed were shunned, driven from their homes, and sometimes even stoned to death. To make the situation even worse, rumors soon broke out that the condition of the Changed was contagious even after the Miasma had been dissipated. This only served to fuel the growing hatred and prejudice. In a desperate attempt to save its citizens, the Ninten government had offered asylum to the Changed in the form of out of research facilities, where they would be kept out of public eye, and thus, safe. Despite the large numbers of Changed who flocked to these locations, most Changed smelled a trick. Most in this category had already found a way to blend in or lived in secluded spots, safe from the massive Anti-Changed movement. When the government realized it had less than a quarter of the estimated changed citizens, it was forced to reveal its true intent—to remove all Changed from society, forcefully. A great cheer broke out in the Anti-Changed organizations as the President of Ninten made this announcement.

Changed were hunted down like crazed animals, sedated, caged, and then dragged off to remote facilities. Any citizen seeing a changed was required to inform the local authorities. Soon, even a blood test was developed to single out the Changed who appeared normal. In less than half a year's time since the initial bombings, almost all Changed citizens had been hauled off to research facilities and holding camps.

Amidst all this chaos, Ike's village remained an oasis to Changed. Most of the inhabitants were either the Changed themselves, or had family members with the condition. They realized that the Changed weren't all that different from normal people, and so, kept quiet. This closed-mouth method seemed to work, and the government was far too busy with the rest of the country to investigate any of the smaller villages too closely. For a time, there was relative harmony.

Then, Ike had ruined it all.

He, unique in his physical orientations, had been spotted by a traveling merchant while he was in his… other form. This single incident was the catalyst that lead to the eventual destruction of his village, and his capture. The law enforcement appeared quickly and stealthily, succeeding in capturing many of the inhabitants. Those were not captured were able to flee into the woods that surrounded the village. Ike's sister and father were amongst them. He knew they had escaped. He had stayed behind to ensure that face.

Not long ago, Ike had given up counting the days, only being able to count a night as the time the lights that illuminated his cell went off, and day as when they were on. For all he knew, they could have switched the order of things, making it light in the evening, and dark in the morning. In all honestly, he didn't care. He didn't care about much these days. He had one goal—eventually reuniting with his sister and father, and a few choice people from his village. Besides that, the world was empty for Ike.

* * * * * *

Bright lights pierced his dreams, bringing Ike to consciousness. The door to his cell was yanked open with a painful squeak, and something, or rather, someone, was pitched rather roughly through before said door was pulled shut again. Ike blinked rapidly and squinted as his poor eyes attempted to adjust to the sudden light. Just as things became clear, the lights were abruptly shut off again, leaving the two in darkness.

When Ike's vision had finally readjusted, the new comer had found his footing, and was now fixing the door with an icy glare. He was scarcely older than a boy, at maybe fifteen or sixteen years of age (not that Ike had room to talk, seeing as he had only turned eighteen last winter.). He was clad in a grubby red hoodie with the word 'Icarus' on the front, jean shorts, and tennis shoes, with the special worn-out-toe-hole—perfect for getting ventilation, ice, and rain to ones socks. Blue restraining devices—that looked oddly like rubber bands—kept what Ike identified as dirty white wings strapped against the boy's back. The only other restraining device he had was an iron box around his hands. It looked like said hands had been placed in the box, palm-to-palm, before the box had been secured shut.

The last details Ike could take in before the boy noticed his presence were those of his face.

Messy auburn locks fell down past his eyes, only to be pulled back by a tarnished gold hairclip. Ignoring the grime, he had a pretty, feminine face, and a soft chin. None of these observations really mattered though, except for the boy's expression. His eyebrows were furred in determination, and his lips formed a scowl, but despite this brave front, his cerulean eyes were laced with fear. When those wild eyes met Ike's deep blue, they flicked for a moment with renewed terror, before hiding themselves behind the veil of a smile.

Plopping himself down next to the other, the boy introduced himself as, "Pit!" and in no time at all, he was talking to Ike like they were old friends. Despite the slight cockiness that spiced his demeanor, the boy was surprisingly kind, ad genuine. Ike felt conversation slipping from between his lips like a stream that had just discovered a new outlet. He was comfortable with this newcomer, and as the night slipped slowly by, Ike could feel himself being wrapped in the warm blanket of idle talk.

"It actually tastes horrib—" Pit paused his story about mixing hot sauce and ice cream to stifle a yawn.

"We should probably get some rest," Ike commented, rubbing his left eye, which was twitching slightly (1).

The angel-boy yawned again, mumbling a little, "Okay."

Amused, Ike watched as a half-asleep Pit attempted to pull off his red sweater—most likely to use as a lumpy sort of pillow. Feeling like a big brother again, Ike gently pulled the boy's sweater back down to his waist line. When greeted with a groggy, confused look, Ike simply replied, "You won't be able to get your sweater off while your hands are locked up like that."

A light bulb went off over Pit's head as he blinked at his restrained hands. "Oopse," he said with a sheepish grin. Ike's response was to ruffle the boy's hair, taking great care not to hit him with his hand-cuffs in the process. He leaned back into his corner, as he had nearly every night before, but this time, with eyes locked on the fussing angel-boy, he was content to let the darkness claim him.

(1) – According to Soren, whenever Ike gets tired, his left eye twitches.


	2. Words and Colors

**Changed**

**Chapter Two: Words and Colors  
**

With the morning came the lights, and Ike's poor tired brain did its best to focus. _What time is it?_ The same time they turn the lights on every morning. _What's for breakfast?_ Porridge of some sort, as usual. _Where am I, anyway?_ Okay, these questions are getting more idiotic by the minute. You're the same place you've been every morning for the last who-knows-how-long, all by your lones-

The conversation in Ike's head was brought to an abrupt end when Pit made his presence known with a bleary, "Morning."

Not long later, the guard arrived with breakfast. He stared a long time at Pit, and then glared accusingly at the single plastic bowl in his hands. With a sigh, he set the down by the enclosure, just out of Ike's reach, and departed from sight. Ike shot a sad look in the bowl's direction. When only a few minutes had passed, the guard returned with a second bowl, and pushed both through an opening in the barred door designed just for that purpose. As Ike happily jumped his bowl, he mentally thanked the man. Though he wasn't sure whether to pin him as a Changed-sympathizer or just someone who cared about doing his job well, Ike was rather grateful, especially since the guard had the insight to leave a straw with the second bowl, in light of the current position of Pit's hands.

He watched with a smile as the angel-boy greedily sucked up his porridge, amused at his youthful enthusiasm. Looking down at his own meal, Ike took a spoonful and blew softly on it, though more out of habit than anything. Ike felt like he was back at home. The mornings had always been blanketed in comfortable silences—Mist had never been much of a morning person. With her silent and focused on her food, Ike was given a chance to speak with his father. Some of his best memories of Greil consisted o those mornings, and of course training days at his father's dojo. To find such a feeling here… Ike was overwhelmed. He paused to take a deep breath, savoring the old memories with the new.

Pit watched Ike cautiously, interrupting only when he saw the older boy open his eyes again. "You look so serious, " he observed. "What are you thinking about?"

The bluenette turned to face the brunette. "My family," was the simple response. 'Family' seemed to have triggered some sort of response in the angel-boy because his face lit up and he immediately began pestering Ike with all sorts of questions.

"How many siblings do you have?"

"I have a younger sister named Mist."

"What's she like?"

"She's a good kid."

"Does she look like you?"

"Her hair is brown, like my dad's, but her eyes are blue like mine," Ike paused here, eyes furrowing as if he remembered something else. "And we're often told that we have our mother's nose."

Pit peered at him with eyes like sparkling waves. "She must have been beautiful."

"I honestly don't know. I really don't remember her all that well," was the reply. "She died when Mist and I were young."

"I'm sorry Ike." The words were genuine.

"Don't fret over it. I've long gotten over it. Besides, my dad's always been there to look out for us."

"I'm glad," again, authentic and genuine words.

Realizing the topic had dried up, Ike quickly inquired about Pit's family.

"I have a twin brother!" The boy declared exuberantly.

Eyebrows raised. "So do you guys look identical?"

"We were, but after becoming Changed, his whole complexion went a bit darker. His eyes changed to a red-orange and his hair is just a shade darker than mine. When we don't stand next to each other, you can't tell the difference. But the coolest part of it all is that instead of getting pretty white wings like me, he wound up with black ones! They're not an ugly black-brown, but rather they're so black that they shine blue in the sun, like a raven! They make him look so dark and mysterious, it's a wonder all the girls in my village didn't fall head-over-heels for him!" The boy chattered away happily.

_Hmm… a brother complex, _Ike mused. "So does this wonderful brother of yours have a name?"

"Lethr! (1)"

"What about your parents?"

"Never had any," The boy replied with a shrug. "We were found as babies on the steps of the Temple of the Sky Goddess, Palutena. The priests and priestesses there took us in and raised us."

"It must have been rough." Ike eyed the boy with newfound respect. He knew what it was like to lack a parent—to be looked down and pitied, but to have no parents at all?

"It wasn't all that bad. Lethr was always there to protect me, and the temple people treated us well. The village people were real nice too… until we Changed that was. They burned down the temple and tried to kill us. It's amazing what people are capable of." There was a tang of bitterness in Pit's voice, and his distantly focused eyes burned with some unknown emotion. "Lethr says it's because we're the only ones in the village who ended up changed after breathing in the miasma. Everyone else died. Lethr says it's just because we were lucky, and it's not our fault that we didn't die too. But that's not what the villagers thought…" His tale finished, the angel-boy stared blankly at the dreary cell. Ike reached over, placing a cuffed hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Hey," Ike began quietly. "Not everyone's like that."

Pit made eye contact, holding Ike's blue eyes like he was searching for something. "No," was the response. "They're not."

A silence settled in. It was the quiet of heavy breathing after success in a hard fought battle. It was that awkward familiarity of hugging someone you've just met. It was the silence of a new friendship, growing steadily in the soil. To tell the truth, Ike didn't mind this silence all that much.

"Say, Ike," Pit began out of the blue like a Japanese kamikaze fighter plane with its eyes set on a nearby battleship. "How'd you end up in here? I mean, you're normal enough. There aren't any weird wings popping out of your back or anything."

In the few moments Ike was given before he was expected to respond, a hurricane of thoughts whipped through his mind.

He had always found it easier to trust, tan to distrust. He would rather put his faith in someone than turn them away with a frown. It was what his father had always done—choosing to let students train for weeks at his dojo without payment. Though a few here and there had run off without paying a penny, most repaid their debts in double, becoming masters along the way. Not only the dojo, but the whole village used this principle. With everyone respected and trusted, Ike never had anything to hide.

After being captured and imprisoned, he had gotten slightly more pessimistic, but remained confident with his appearance and attributes. He saw nothing wrong with being Changed. One attempted escape attempt, three different prisons, and an innumerable number of beatings later, his views had been tweaked, _just a bit_. It was better to blend in than stand out. It was better to be human than flaunt who you were. It was better to be nonexistent. He had been given the abused clothes with this philosophy. "This way you can blend in," he was told. "This way you can survive." And survival was the only thing way he was going to see his father and Mist again.

With Pit staring at him expectantly, Ike was at a loss of what to say. Even after the angel-boy had placed his whole world in Ike's palms, and entrusted him with his pains, Ike didn't know if he could even tell the boy what he really was. The choice was right in front of him. Here was the decision that would shape the leftovers of his life. He could be true to himself, and be ready for the pain, or protect himself, and abandon the warmth of his fellows.

He blinked, and for a moment, it was as Mist was sitting next to him, instead of Pit. The decision was instantaneous then. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reached up for his beanie, before pulling it completely fro his head.

* * *

(1) – Yes, Lethr (pronounced Leh-thee-ur) is Kuro/Fallen/Dark/whatever Pit. Since he's going to play a major part later on, I felt it would be only fair if he was given a real name. The characters which make up the Japanese word black are 'ku' and 'ro'. In hiragana 'ku' looks kind of like 'less than' and 'ro' looks kind of like '3'. Put them together and you get less than three. By stealing the first piece of each character I was able to create Le-thr. Yay.


	3. Both Forwards and Backwards

**Changed **

**Chapter Three: Both Backwards and Forwards  
**

In one steady motion, Ike's cuffed hands reached up and removed the beanie that had closely guarded his head for some time now. Its removal disclosed his secret—his only secret. Hands clenched, and eyes locked, Ike prepared for Pit's reaction.

Peeping from over the top of Ike's messy blue hair was a pair of feline-like ears. They were round in shape, almost like those of an ocelot, and just a few shades darker than his hair—thin black stripes marked the outside, and creamy, almost white, tuffs warmed the inside. At the moment, they were angled backwards, as if expressing some of Ike's discomfort.

The words were out of Pit's mouth before they had a chance to be green lighted by his brain. "Do you have a tail?"

Blinking at how seemingly random the question was, Ike nodded. It took him a few seconds of Pit's intense stare to realize that his answer was suppose to contain a visual aid—Pit wanted to see said tail. With a sigh, he shuffled his pants down ever so slightly, so his tail could squirm over the top. It gave a single irritated flick, as if peeved for being cooped up for so long, until settling into a casual sway, as if keeping tempo with a softly played guitar. It matched his ears.

"Wow," was the word Pit chose to break the silence with. "And I thought Lethr had all the girls after him."

Ike shot Pit a 'quizzative' glare. "What?"

"I'm saying you're cute."

His blue ears pricked up instantaneously at this, confusion forming all over his face. "I'm not—"

"Lethr VS Ike," Pit easily cut off his startled cell mate, caught up in his own fantasies. "It would be a close race to see who could get the most fan girls." He illustrated the odd scene playing in his head by nodding his head and making strange motions with his restrained hands.

His ears back in a neutral position, Ike now sported an amused smile. "You're weird," He noted.

"Says the one with the ears!" Pit resurfaced from his fantasy as quickly as he had dived.

"Angel Boy," Ike shot back.

"Tiger Boy."

"Girly Face."

"Blue hair…ed man…" Pit struggled for a good come back.

"Hah, You lost the game," Ike said with a chuckle, his tail giving a flick.

"We'll just see about that!" Rocking forward onto the balls of his feet, Pit launched himself at Ike in a forward tackle. Unfortunately, he had failed to take into consideration his bound wings and restricted hands. It was a horrible miscalculation on Pit's part, and he ended up toppling over and falling on top of Ike instead of pushing him down. Ike caught him easily.

"Nice tackle there." The words were accompanied by yet another soft laugh.

Pit's reply was a scowl. "If it weren't for these stupid restraints, I'd totally have you on the floor right now. Heck, I could even break out of this place if it weren't for the box around my hands." He had untangled himself from the older boy while this was being said, and was currently fixing his non-visible hands with a glare.

"How?" Interest peeked, Ike had to ask.

Flashing one of the cocky grins Ike was beginning to realize were characteristic of the younger boy, Pit launched into one of his stories. "When Lethr and I changed, we both wound up with wings, and the ability to generate energy from our bare hands." Blue eyebrows rose at this point. "My hands glow blue (Lethr's are red.), and then I can melt things just by touching them, or throw it at stuff!"

"You throw… the glow?" Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed, Ike's look was not one of understanding.

"Yup! I can form it into a ball, or a disk, and once I even formed an arrow. The glow pretty much destroys whatever it touches." For some reason, Ike felt Pit was a bit _too_ happy about the last part.

"What about your hands?" It wouldn't be much of a power if it was self-mutilating.

"It doesn't affect them," Pit explained. "Unless I build up power for too long, and then the glow spreads down my arms, that burn just like everything else." With his teeth tightened around the edges of his red sleeve, Pit was able to pull the garment back far enough to show a rather nasty scar a few inches from his wrists. "Sheeh?" was the muffled word.

Ike gave a somber nod.

Releasing the sleeve from his mouth, Pit was soon babbling again. "Lethr can get his glow to go almost all the way to his elbow. Of course he can't throw it very far…."

Ike tuned out the rest of the boy's words as he fine-tuned his troubled thoughts. Pit's comment about escaping had jump-started his brain; the desire to escape was once more predominant. They could use Pit's power to break their restraints, and then he would be able to transform and easily flee from this prison. By himself, Ike was no match for all the security guards, cameras, and various security devices, but with Pit… anything was possible.

"Ike?" Pit had apparently noticed that the blue haired man's attention had wandered.

"Pit, can you break out of your restraints with the energy from your glow?" Mission in mind, Ike ignored all the normal pleasant subtleties of common conversation.

A crease formed in the boy's brow. "I've tried, but it's not very effective."

"Show me."

Determined to show off his mad skills, Pit gave an enthusiastic nod, and focused his attention on his hands. His eyebrows formed two hard lines, like arrows pointing at his spunky upturned nose and down to his frowning lips. Ike's ears twitched. Even without the heightened senses of a Changed, Ike could feel the energy that radiated off Pit like some schizophrenic microwave. A small grunt vibrated in the back of his throat and without further forewarning, blue energy burst from the cracks of the box like water breaking through a dam, and then proceeded to race down his arms like a rabid squirrel on a telephone line. It incinerated his sleeves, and in no time, was past the scars on his arms. Pit shrieked. The glow died off with the sound that had clawed its way out of the boy's throat. AS if the whole world finally released the breath it had been holding, a final wave of energy rolled off the boy and into the air before disappearing entirely. Silence plagued the cell.

Almost instantaneously, the guards stood in front of the cell.

Ike barely had time to blink before he was shoved to the ground, heavy, impersonal boots on his back. The icy nose of a revolver nuzzled his neck. Straining against the death that pressed against his neck, Ike attempted to struggle up, forcing himself to look at Pit. The guards that surrounded him were nothing more than blue uniforms to Ike. All that mattered was Pit. The boy looked little more than a broken doll: his body limp, his face sickly white. But what really tugged at Ike's heart were the blatant red burns that looked like two ugly bracelets around his forearm. The image moved, as he was lifted toward the door**. **

They would take him away just like the others, and Ike would loose another companion. He would never see him again. He would never hear his laugh again. He would never be near him again.

"Pit!" The words came out like a desperate scream. "PIT!"

A mad shuffle flew through the blue uniforms, and another guard attempted to pin Ike down as he struggled. The extra weight, blows, and shouted words meant nothing to Ike. He was completely oblivious to everything except the limp angel boy. The world stopped when Pit's eyes fluttered open.

"Ike?" He mumbled.

"PIT!" Renewed vigor flowed through his body. He was up on his hands and knees now—a single hand reached out. He could do it. He could save Pit where he hadn't been able to save the others. This time, it would be different.

A blow to the back of his head rendered Ike's world black.


	4. Two True Forms

_WARNINGS: Slight language, and my own weird humor._

**Changed**

**Chapter Four: Two True Forms**

Pit was accustomed to waking to darkness. When he and Lethr had fled from their village, naturally, they had no where to go, and blindly running as they did doesn't exactly take one to the nicest of places. Pit could remember sleeping in abandoned cardboard boxes in dark alleys inhabited only by trash and rats. Sometimes it was under the eaves of the nearest front porch, others it was the woods, but more than often, the angel brothers found themselves curled up in the back of silent churches or vacant buildings. Lethr would shake him awake just before the dawn, and they would sneak off, traveling to wherever they could find their next meal.

Darkness was a blanket of safety.

It was bright light that scared him.

Pit had barely even cracked his eyelids when he was assaulted with a flood of white. Squeezing them instinctively shut, Pit did his best to focus on his other instincts. Then, perhaps, he could find out exactly where he was.

The soft murmur of human voices hovered about Pit's ears. The only thing he could smell cut at his senses, like some sort of disinfectant. He systematically went through his limbs to assess if they were alright. First, the right arm, and his writing hand. What?! Some sort of restraint held his wrist to whatever surface he was laying upon. Further experimenting proved that this was also true on his left wrist and ankles. Just what was going on?

Pit's brain was scarcely given the time to process this thought before a harsh sound jolted his senses. It was strident and wracked his ears with pain. The voices all around him escalated with the sounding of this alarm-like sound. Quiet tones were suddenly angry and surprised shouts. Pit waited for them to disappear before opening his eyes again.

If he tilted his head just slightly to the side, the light wasn't so bad, though it was now tainted by the flash of a red light on the right side of his vision, presumably part of the alarm. With this new vision, Pit could detect that he was strapped to a table of some kind. Though the nasty smell lingered fainting all around, it came most notably from the tray of sharp metal tools to the boy's left.

"First thing's first," Pit whispered to himself. Closing his eyes once again, he focused all his energy on his fingertips, then slowly moved up his hands, eventually stopping at his wrists. He surged another wave of power through his hands, and they flared up electric blue, dissolving the plastic straps and melting the shape of a hand in the table. A smirk graced his lips as he felt his arms rise, free.

Now, the feet.

With his now naked hands to steady himself, Pit pushed himself into a sitting position, and immediately regretted doing so.

Pain shot through his head like someone had had the gall to run an electric wire through his ears and just now decided to turn it on so that they could make some coffee. A hand immediately went to his forehead, as if applying pressure would somehow lessen the pain. Thankfully, the agony faded as quickly as it had come. _Man, what in Palutena's name did they do to me? _ Pit glared accusingly at the painfully bright light above, as if it were responsible for everything. Blame placed, he felt slightly better, and reached forward to free his ankles, taking great care to not burn himself. Twisting his body, he moved so that his feet were dangling off the edge of the table. He winced as another bite of pain shot through his head.

It was time to finish the inspection he had started earlier.

His wings were still bound by the ridiculous blue rubber bands. He fried those and his wings gave a grateful flap. As soon as he was free of this wretched place, he would be sure to give them some well needed exercise. Next, he ran over his lower half. His legs seemed fine, the only change being a red mark where the straps had held him to the table. He allowed himself a smile, as he wriggled his big toe through a hole in his tennis shoes, knowing that everything was good there. Something strange, however, had happened to his wrists. The normal silver scar lines were hidden by crisp bandages, a fact which worried Pit greatly. If the people here were capable of kidnapping complete innocents, then what kind of terrible things would they do when binding up someone's wounds? Maybe they had placed a tracking device in his arm while he had been knocked out, or injected him with some insane virus.

What if they had let a radioactive hedgehog bite him?! Then his skin would turn blue and he would suddenly be able to run at amazing speeds.

What a terrifying thought.

Unfortunately, there was no real way of knowing. With a sigh, Pit decided it was time to focus on finding a way of getting out of his current predicament. He could save his crazy theories for some other time. It was while wandering down this trail of thought that he noticed something he probably should have noticed earlier.

He was currently missing a shirt of any kind.

Mouth wide enough to catch flies, Pit stared at his naked chest, horrified. H-His favorite sweater! While he was under they must have taken it and the shirt beneath so they could poke his tummy or something.

They had even gone to all the hassle of putting the bands back on his wings. No wonder he had been so cold!

"T-the BASTARDS!" He hissed, vowing to bring his vengeance down upon whoever had done this nefarious crime, and torment their children and their children's children, and _their_ children's children, and...

Thus, Pit's overactive imagination took him for a joy ride again.

At this rate, he would never escape.

* * *

With a thump, Ike collapsed against the back of his cell. There was nothing quite like the feeling of exhaustion after a long workout: the groan of exercised muscles, the sticky wetness that was sweat, gluing clothes to skin and hair to foreheads, and of course, the dull ache of fatigue that soaks the entire body, making it hard to stand. He had long ago learned to love it; it was delicious, like cake for his body.

It had been thirteen days since Pit had been taken.

Though Ike liked to deny having counted, the numbers came quickly from the recesses of his mind. They required no dusting. He hated the idea of just how attached he had become to the angel-boy over the short period of time they had been in contact. It wasn't the attachment that bothered him, as he saw no wrongs with caring for another, but it was the amount of caring. The feelings had blossomed too fast, and before he even knew what was going on, he was bound to emotions that he didn't even know existed.

The best thing to get rid of foreign thought was, in Ike's humble opinion, hard labor.

Every second of the past thirteen days that his body would allow had been spent doing whatever exercises he could think of: anything that would build back up the muscle he had lost, anything that would keep his mind from dangerous thoughts.

When he rested, he focused on formulating an escape plan. When first captured, he had only existed for escape. When he had reached his third prison, however, the desire to rebel had been beaten out of him, like paint that had been rubbed off by the touch of many hands. But Pit had come along and painted it on anew and he was filled with vigor again. He would escape.

* * *

He had one chance at this. Should he transform too fast, or fail to apply pressure in the correct areas, so that the handcuffs would respond in the right way, he could wind up with broken wrists, or possibly even loose his hands all together. This had to be precise. He had done it once before, but then only through the careful coaching of an experienced cell mate. Now, he would be on his own.

Carefully, Ike began his transformation; it was the method he did not wish to resort to; it was the only method he had. He bent over, so his fingertips touched the hard cement ground, and his skin began to wriggle and squirm, as if something was moving beneath it. His face stretched out painfully slowly, elongating his nose and jaw into a single form: the muzzle. His human ears disappeared beneath a soft layer of blue fuzz that crawled over his skin like a layer of mold on Miracle Grow. His tail stretched out, and his body gave a violent shiver; here was the tricky part. Growth surged through his arms and like a single heart beat; they were suddenly twice the width they had once been. The metal shackles on his wrists strained for a moment, trying to hold tight for one last breath, before they split neatly in two. They fell to the floor with a metal clank. A similar wave surged through his legs, and did the same to those shackles as had been done to the first. A wave of deep blue hair provided the finishing touches, and the transformation was complete.

His beast from had been aptly named, he looked very much like a demon from the depths of a blue colored Hell. His build was that of a large feline, with short midnight-blue hair covering his rippling muscles. Black stripes ran down his back, touched his legs and scampered around his face and tail. The fur guarding his stomach was slightly longer than the rest, creamy-white, and silky to the touch. Tips of this adorned the tip of his tail, the insides of his ears, ran up his chest to stop at his chin, and gave the impression of eyebrows above to deep blue eyes—eyes that one could drown in.

His shoulders also happened to come up to a little over four feet.

He was one big kitty.

Scarcely a moment had passed, when the screaming of sirens blasted in Ike's delicate ears. Red lights lining the hallways flashed a bright red, like some middle aged woman's Christmas lights gone mad. They flashed to the same tempo as the sirens.

Some idiot had obviously tripped the alarm.

Ike knew a chance like this wouldn't come everyday. If he were to escape, it would best be done now, while the guards were occupied with another area of the compound. Backing to the rear of his cell, Ike attempted to give himself some space. This achieved, her bolted forward, slamming his whole weight against the metal door. This compound had been built quickly and cheaply, like the many others of its kind; the iron gave way with a groan, bending out of shape and clattering against the cement floors of the hallway.

Ike was free.


	5. An Escape Route

**Changed**

**Chapter Five: An Escape Route  
**

Ike's paws scarcely made a sound as they thudded against the hard concrete floors of the hallway. To either side of him, doors with painfully blank faces stared him down, naked of every sort of decoration except small name plates with letters in fourteen point font. Ike couldn't decide which was worse, the hungry eyes of other the Changed staring out from their cages at him, or these ugly, impersonalized doors. He remembered them from when he had first come here. If he kept heading down this hallway, he knew he would eventually get to an exit; albeit one heavily guarded by blue clad soldiers, it was still an exit.

But there was something blocking this way out.

The commotion ahead was a concentration of blue against a white blob: mass of soldiers against a single white winged boy.

_Pit?!_

Ike shot forward with a sudden burst of speed, leaping into the air, and body slamming two of the soldiers attacking Pit. A third barely could raise his gun before Ike's outstretched claws found his face. Seizing this distraction, Pit used a low kick to knock the feet out from under the final soldier. He finished the job with a shining blue fist to his opponent's face.

"Thanks for the help," his words came out as bubbly as usual, like a casual thank you to a stranger who had just opened the door for him. He didn't seem to mind that he was speaking to a giant blue cat.

Ike's response was to hook his teeth into the boy's belt loops, dragging him slowly away from the unconscious men.

"What, Kitty, you want me to follow you?" Ike resisted the urge to injure the angel-boy for the nickname, and instead carefully unhooked his teeth, rubbing up against Pit, and trying to push him in the right direction.

"Okay, Kitty! Let's go!" Pit raced forward, his short legs stretched out as far as possible, so to make the most of his strides. Ike easily matched this speed, and quickly realized that it would be no where near fast enough to get out of the facility.

Improvisations were in order.

Once again snagging the boy's belt loops, Ike skidded to a stop. Pit, who had almost done a face plant against the cement, turned to glare at Ike. "What are you doing, Kitty?!"

A shiver went through Ike's entire body, and his fur wriggled like the ocean waves on a stormy night. Fur disappeared, leaving skin and clothing behind. A now human Ike stood, stretching himself to his full height and popping a crick in his neck. He faced Pit with an embarrassed smile.

Pit's face was frozen in shock—his eyes wide, and eyebrows as high as they would go; he mouth left open slightly, as if all words had died before they could fully germinate.

"Hey, Pit."

Before Ike could muster another syllable, the expression on the brunette's face radically transformed. "IIIIKEE!" The words bolted from his lips like a battle cry, disappearing behind him as he threw himself at the blue haired man, knocking both of them to a ground, and catching Ike in a tight tackle-hug.

Ike was trying very hard not to notice that Pit—half naked—was lying on top of him. The boy seemed to not realize their awkward position, and babbled happily way, chatting something along the lines of "I missed you." And "I can't believe you can transform into a tiger. That's so cool!" Ike missed most of this, focusing all of his mental energy on trying to think straight and stop the blush from forming on his face.

"C'mon, we need to get out of here," Ike helped the angel-boy back to his feet as soon as he had gotten his heart under control. Hopefully his blush wasn't too noticeable.

"How?" Pit was quick to ask. Ike hoped he wasn't quick on catching onto other things as well.

"Well, I suppose we just go back the way I came. If the soldiers were any indication, a doubt we'll be able to get out from the direction you were heading." Ike thanked every God he could think of that the words were so automatic, and that he could keep a straight face while looking at his shirt-less buddy. He needed to do something about that, and fast. His thoughts were slipping.

Doing his best to sound casual, Ike asked, "Hey, what happened to your shirt?"

Brows knitted and lips pursed, Pit responded. "The jerks who stole me from you must have swiped it while I was unconscious."

For the love of…! Why did everything thing Pit say sound like I had other connotations?!

"Here," Ike tossed his own jacket at the other boy, glad he was wearing two layers. "If you rip up the back with those hands of yours, you should be able to fit your wings through." Anything that would shift Ike's thoughts in a different direction.

After a few protests, Pit did as Ike had suggested and slipped his wings through a fresh hole in the back of the already abused jacket. He zipped up the front and gave an amused grin—the sleeves fell to his knees. Ike was pleased that all dirty thoughts had fled from his mind with the adding of a single piece of clothing to the angel-boy's frame. Now, to keep such thoughts from ever popping up again…

"Let's get going then!" Pit declared happily, throwing his arm into the air in an exited gesture.

"It would be faster if I transformed first," Ike replied, glad to be able to focus on the task at hand. "And once I do, it would probably be best if you got on my back. There's no way your legs will be able to keep up with mine."

"I can run just fine!" Ruffling his feathers, Pit gave Ike an angry glare.

"That's not the problem. We need to get out of here as fast as possible, and that will require speed, so that we can escape before they notice we're gone," Was Ike's simple reply.

Pit was angry because Ike actually made sense. "Fine."

Ike smiled and ruffled the boy's hair. "Just remember to hold on tight."

* * *

There had been no reason to stop running before this moment. Ike had thundered silently past hundreds of other prison cells, all filled by creatures as wretched as he, but had not felt the need to slow down. He had raced swiftly past prison guards, shot down by Pit's blue energy, as the alarm bells rung in his ears, and the flashing red burned at his eyes, and felt only the desire to keep going. He could not remember the last time he had felt so free; his legs stretched out muscles he had long forgotten he had, as he tried to reach his terminal speed. He was very aware of the thighs that gripped his back and the fingers that burrowed in his thick fur. While not spread to their full length, the boy's wings were open just enough to ruffle his feathers. If for nothing else, Ike was running for him.

But the presence ahead was such that it commanded Ike to yield.

"What's wrong?" The words were in response to the growl that had formed deep in Ike's throat. Pit had forgotten that Ike couldn't speak in his beast form.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" The words sent a chill down Pit's spine, and he quickly turned to see the force Ike was staring down.

Perhaps it was the man's height that gave him an overwhelming aura of power—he stood somewhere between six and seven feet. His clothing look exquisite, even tailored. He wore a suit-coat with tails that fell nearly to his ankles, and clean professional slacks, both in a brown that looked almost black.

His dress shirt beneath was a crisp white against handsomely tanned skin, and unbuttoned so to expose his tight neck and the smooth cut of his collar bone. His face was firm and angular, his jaw making two sharp arrows down to his pointed chin, adorned with a goatee, and held high with an air of pride. From here, it quickly became apparent that he was more than just a simple human.

He was a Changed.

His hair was a deep purple, almost violet, and aside for a few loose strands that framed his face, it was all pulled back in a loose braid that reached his thighs. A pair of ears, elongated to a point where they looked almost Elvin and covered with a soft brown fur, fanned out from behind his purple locks. His eyes were a startling highlighter yellow, and his pupils were slit in a way that gave them a reptilian look.

A long tail escaped from underneath his dress coat; however, unlike the rest of his body, which was covered with hard flesh, the tail looked to be made entirely of different segments of bone. It was almost as if someone had grabbed the end of his spine and then stretched it out to a ridiculous length, dangerously sharpening the edges in the process.

The piece of his appearance that took the cake, however, was his right hand.

His dress coat had been neatly cut off at the shoulder on the right side, leaving his muscled arm free to slip into a white glove that rose past his biceps. The glove itself was rather unremarkable, being a simple white. What was startling, however, was the soft glow that surrounded the hand, and the overwhelming feeling of power that emanated from it.

"Two Changed, ripe for the taking, and I didn't even need to fetch them, how convenient," the man remarked with a smirk.

A low growl from deep in Ike's throat was the only response he received.

"Greetings," he began, completely ignoring the hostile stance Ike had taken up. "My name is Master R. Hand, and I have a proposition for the both of you." He bowed low as he spoke, his bangs cascading over his eyes. His face was sincere enough, but somehow Ike felt that he had never been more mocked in his life.


End file.
